Experiments
by adventure-snail
Summary: Sherlock has a few experiments he'd like to try on John. Johnlock, one-shot.


**A/N: Thanks to my beta, Lupinista, because without her this fic would have been much more crappy. This hasn't been Brit-picked, so sorry for any huge mistakes!**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and the BBC.**

John Watson slowly opened his eyes, staring into the darkness of his room. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Bright red numbers flashed back the time: 4:14 AM. John groaned and slumped back down on his pillow, rubbing his eyes. He wondered what had woken him. He didn't think it had been a dream.

"Having trouble falling asleep?" a low voice rumbled out, causing shocks to move through John's body. He sat bolt upright in his bed, turning towards the sound.

He could make out Sherlock's form, sitting on the bed next to him. The consulting detective was staring at him for some reason. The grey eyes bored into John, and the two spent a few moments simply looking at each other.

"W-what are you doing in here?" John finally choked out.

"Experiment," Sherlock mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

"Wait, what?" What do you mean, 'experiment'? What does watching me sleep have to do with anything?"

"I'm seeing if people in close quarters have similar or relatively similar sleeping habits. A 57-year-old homicide victim's alibi depends on it," Sherlock replied curtly, his eyes still fixed on John.

"Do you… do this often?"

"When I need to. I tried Mrs. Hudson, but she went white as a sheet and nearly fainted."

John's eyes bulged. "You _what_? Sherlock, she must've thought you were an intruder!"

"Hmm… Yes, you're probably right."

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, have you got any other… _experiments_ to do, or whatever, because I have work at the surgery tomorrow and – "

"Kiss me."

If John wasn't so used to Sherlock's nonsense, he might have fainted on the spot. "Sorry, what?"

"I said 'kiss me', did you not catch that?" Sherlock reiterated, his eyebrows raised.

"No. I mean I, uh, heard that part. It's just, I…"

"You see, many scientists have observed increased levels of oxytocin in the brain during and shortly after a couple has kissed. Since you're the closest person I know, both in a relationship and location sense, I'd like to test the theory out on you."

John was in a bit of a daze and didn't really listen to all of Sherlock's explanation, but one thought kept resurfacing in his mind: Sherlock wanted to _kiss_ him.

"So, do you agree to the proposal?" Sherlock finished, eyes on John. He scooted a bit closer until he was next to the doctor.

"So, um, this is for science, right?" John asked uneasily, sitting up a bit more.

"Yes, weren't you listening?"

"Uh, yeah," John said, turning to pull the cord on the lamp on his bedside table.

"No," Sherlock said a bit hastily, leaning over to grab his arm. "It's… supposed to work better in the dark."

"Oh." John sat up fully and faced Sherlock, entirely unsure about what to do next. Should he call the whole thing off? No, it was just one kiss. He just couldn't pinpoint the odd sensation in the back of his mind that he… wanted this, in a way.

John was interrupted mid-thought as Sherlock closed the gap between them. Something went off in John's head, something that felt a bit like fireworks. Was this that – what was it, that _oxytocin_ that Sherlock was talking about? Sherlock leaned further into the kiss and opened his mouth slightly, inviting John's tongue in for exploration, and the doctor gave up on thinking altogether.

There wasn't really any battle for dominance in the kiss; it almost felt playful. Aside from the sound of the kiss and the occasional moan, the silence rung in their ears.

John eventually broke off, panting slightly, and cleared his throat. "_Ahem_, okay, so you did your, er, experiment, so…"

John thought perhaps Sherlock looked disappointed to end the kiss, but then he let out a slow breath and sat back, and the look vanished. John would have imagined that this moment would be unspeakably awkward, but it felt almost… natural. Comfortable even, and then Sherlock started talking.

"That wasn't all," he murmured contemplatively.

_That_ wasn't –? He couldn't be serious. "What?" John asked, seeking clarification.

"You may want to get your ears checked, John, that's becoming a serious problem."

"No, I mean…" John sighed. "What's the next experiment, then?"

"I'm going to apply stimuli to different parts of your body, and I need you tell me your reaction."

John shifted. He was sure that he'd heard Sherlock right, but the words seemed all wrong. Sherlock took John's silence for a 'yes' and crawled across the bed, situating himself behind John. The consulting detective then began massaging John's neck with deft fingers. "How does this feel?" he murmured.

John didn't know what kind of response he was _supposed_ to give. "Uh, good, I guess," he answered, which was the understatement of the year.

"More description," Sherlock coaxed, kneading John's sternum.

"Relaxing," John choked out before moaning at the feeling.

"Mm, good." Sherlock's hands moved to John's shoulders, then to his chest. He grasped some of John's grey t-shirt in his hands, feeling the material. "Pesky thing," he remarked, letting go. He began to work the shirt up John's torso. John resisted at first, but then let Sherlock guide the garment up and over his head.

Sherlock tossed the shirt across the room and looked at John. The doctor's hair was tousled, and Sherlock decided that he liked that. He stroked a hand through the locks thoughtfully.

John moved slightly at his touch and turned to face him. "Different types of stimulus. I said that earlier," Sherlock reminded him.

"Er, right," John said, turning back around.

"No," Sherlock said quickly. "Turn all the way around to face me."

With a slightly puzzled look, John turned. Sherlock's intense eyes washed over John's bare torso, taking in all the angles and curves. He noted the gunshot wound on John's shoulder, and the mesmerising way John's chest moved when he breathed.

John coloured under Sherlock's gaze, and Sherlock tutted him. "Don't be embarrassed, you're… beautiful." Sherlock tentatively put his hand out to trace a circle around John's stomach. He leaned forward onto his knees and their lips met. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, and the consulting detective took the opportunity to stick his tongue in, to taste John again.

Sherlock urged John further backwards, deepening the kiss. He skimmed his hand along the waistband of John's pyjama bottoms, which were made of a red cottony material and had a chequered pattern. John groaned slightly as Sherlock's fingers brushed over a significant bulge in the middle.

Smirking to himself, he kneaded it gently, earning more moans from John. "Sherl…" John whispered weakly into the kiss.

"Stimulus."

John groaned and began thrusting against Sherlock's hand. Sherlock used his free hand to begin unbuttoning his trousers. John got the hint and slid his down as well.

"Bees? Really, Sherlock?" John asked, shaking his head at the pattern on Sherlock's tented pants.

"You're one to talk, yours are red."

They both giggled breathlessly. Sherlock cleared his throat. "Listen, John, I need – "

"More stimuli?"

"…Yes."

John shook his head, the side of his mouth quirking up. "Go for it."

Encouraged by eagerness showing on John's face, Sherlock began to work down the doctor's pants. He tossed them across the room next to their trousers and John's shirt as he took John's erection in hand. Sherlock began slowly, agonisingly slow, until John began to make helpless protests in the back of his throat. Smirking, Sherlock began to pump John's member with haste, and John was so overwhelmed by the feeling it was all he could do to thrust forward, managing an occasional, weak mumble of Sherlock's name.

Without warning, Sherlock sat back and leaned his face down to the space his hand had just occupied. He carefully took the head of John's cock into his mouth, earning a loud groan in response. Encouraged equally by John's praise and his own ego, he took more of the member into his mouth, practically swallowing it. John tangled a hand in Sherlock's dark, curly hair, holding the man's head in place. A few more vigorous thrusts and John came in Sherlock's mouth.

To John's surprise, Sherlock rode out the orgasm with him, stroking him through the end and swallowing his ejaculate. Sherlock looked up at John, smiling mischievously, and leaned forward to kiss his neck.

The doctor's eyes fluttered open. "Mm… so, what was that experiment?"

"A test. To if you cared for me, which you do."

John chuckled tiredly as Sherlock settled himself next to John, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Should've known. Ah, what time is it?" he asked, yawning.

Sherlock glanced back to the clock. "Half past five," he reported.

"Christ, is it really? I'm supposed to be up for work in an hour's time." Even as he said this, John knew he would be in no rush to leave the warmth of Sherlock's embrace, and that he could easily sleep for hours more.

"Humph. Boring," Sherlock commented. Then he smiled at John. "Perhaps you could call in sick?"

"Sherlock, I'm not doing that."

"What a shame. I tend to do most of my… _experiments_ when you're at work."

"…Is that so?" John replied, beginning to smile.

"So it would appear."

"Well then, now that you mention it, I am feeling a little under the weather."

"Yes, well, I'll make you a cuppa and then we'll continue on with our experiments." Sherlock said with a sly smile as he slid off the bed, and John shook his head at Sherlock's bee-clad arse. And now he was making tea – what _was_ the world coming to?

"Hey, Sherlock," he said suddenly, pausing before continuing, the corner of his mouth rose in a slight smile. "This _is_ all for science, yes?"

Sherlock hesitated. "Yeah," he said finally. "We'll go with that."


End file.
